Very Little Time
by Rosencrantz95
Summary: It's the evening of what should have been the end of the world. Angel and Demon have very little time to think of a way to escape the fate that awaits them at their perspective "headquarters." Is this it for them? If so, what will they do with the little time they have left.


Armageddon was canceled—or rather...postponed. Crowley was surprisingly calm. His "faith" in humanity had been restored. He and his angel hadn't, after all, put in all that effort for nothing. Adam had done the unthinkable. Despite how little impact he and Aziraphale actually had on the former Antichrist, Crowley felt a great deal of pride toward the boy. Perhaps it was because for the past 6000 years, he had been told that, as a demon, he was incapable of good intentions or anything good at all. Yet here was this 11 year old boy, the prince of darkness, meant to be evil incarnate, and he ends up being the one to save the world. Crowley wished the realms of Heaven and Hell weren't so set on things being black or white—good or bad. From his experience, he knew that nothing within humanity or the supernatural was ever that simple.

It had been a very long day indeed. Despite that, neither Crowley nor Aziraphale felt the least bit tired. Crowley was too excited. He had been ready to be obliterated right there on the tarmac of that airbase. Worse than that, he had been terrified that he would have to watch Aziraphale be destroyed. The thought of that scared Crowley far more than the appearance of Satan himself. Yet, here they were, still alive. So, he was practically giddy with relief. Somehow, they had avoided the end of the world and they were still together, side by side.

It wasn't until they were sitting on the outskirts of Tadfield, trying to process the day's events, that Crowley noticed that Aziraphale definitely didn't share his relief.

"Angel?" He asked.

"No...I-I don't think I am anymore."

"What d'you mean?"

"They're horribly cross with me. I mean obviously they are."

"Don't worry about that for now."

"But what if we were wrong? What if all we've done is postpone the inevitable?"

"Probably." Crowley chuckled.

When Aziraphale didn't respond, Crowley looked over at him, his brow furrowed and his mouth did the same.

"It's going to be alright, Angel. I promise you, we'll be alright."

"How could you possibly know that?" Aziraphale snapped, a noticeable quaver in his voice.

Crowley didn't know what to say to that.

Aziraphale spared him the effort of coming up with something, though.

"I'm terribly sorry, my dear. This has just been ...a very trying day."

"I know, Angel. I know."

Aziraphale stayed silent like that for quite some time. Crowley tried not to stare at him. He knew that Aziraphale would only get more anxious if Crowley let on how concerned he was.

"Let's go home, Angel."

"Home?"

"Yes—well my home."

"Oh I don't know, Crowley. It feels like a really bad idea."

"Come on. Let's get back to London. I'll buy you some dinner. You always feel better after some food."

"Well. Alright then."

Crowley suppressed a grin. He knew Aziraphale would give in to the temptation of food. It was one of the many, many quirks that Crowley loved best about his Angel.

They made their way back to London slowly. Crowley missed his car terribly with every step and every bus they had to board.

He was so distracted, he hadn't realized how close they were to Aziraphale's shop—or what was left of it. He was startled when he heard Aziraphale gasp.

"Oh. Oh no. My….my books." his eyes were wide and his face white. He stood suddenly and pulled on the break line.

"Aziraphale! No! You don't want to—!"

But Aziraphale was already off the bus.

"Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT."

Crowley raced after him.

The bus pulled away noisily in the eerily quiet night. Aziraphale stood frozen in front of the ruined shop. Bits of the rubble were still smoking. Crowley could only think of protecting Aziraphale, of shielding him from the pain of losing something that meant the world and more to him.

"Aziraphale, I'm sorry. Let's just...let's go."

Aziraphale said nothing, but walked slowly to the front door. It was still standing in its frame, but only just. Aziraphale's hand shook as he reached for the handle. Crowley could do nothing but follow silently behind him.

They maneuvered through the remains and took in the dismal scene. Crowley kept a little bit of distance between himself and Aziraphale, not sure what he could do to help. He shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets and stood by the door, watching his Angel closely.

After a while, Aziraphale bent down and picked up a badly damaged volume. He turned it over in his hands cautiously.

"You gave me this one…" he said quietly.

"What's that?" Crowley asked, not realizing at first that Aziraphale was talking to him.

"When you came back from your...trip to America."

"Which one? Civil War?"

Aziraphale nodded, not taking his eyes off the cover of the book. He brushed away some ash and grime affectionately.

"It was the first book you'd read and enjoyed in decades, you'd said. It made you think of me."

"Oh." Crowley said, walking to Aziraphale's side. "The Scarlet Letter, yeah?"

"One of my favorites."

They both stared at the book, now basically ruined, unreadable.

"Do you want me to...erm…. I could miracle you a new one? Or get this one back in good nick? If you want?" Crowley offered.

"No." Aziraphale answered quietly, "I want to leave. Please let's go."

"Whatever you'd like, Angel."

Crowley led the way to the front door of his London flat. He suddenly felt a little self-conscious about how excessive his tastes in decor seemed in comparison to what he knew Aziraphale was used to.

"This is it." He stated the obvious as he flicked on the lights.

"My goodness. It's very….you."

"Yeah...I know. Anyway…"

Crowley walked to the kitchen.

"You still want something to eat, Angel?"

"No."

This answer surprised Crowley tremendously. "I'm sorry...what?"

"I don't want anything, thank you."

"Are you alright?"

Aziraphale didn't answer.

"Angel?" Crowley walked back into the front room, where Aziraphale hadn't moved an inch from the front door.

"Please don't call me that." He muttered in a pained voice.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not anymore, am I?!" Aziraphale exploded.

"I don't understand."

"What do you suppose is going to happen to us?! Any moment now, they're going to show up and-and!"

"Whoa whoa whoa. Okay, I get it. You're panicking." Crowley rushed back to his side.

"You're damn right I'm bloody panicking!"

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's arm gently and turned him around to face him.

"Look at me, Ang—Aziraphale. Look at me."

"How are you so calm?! This is it, Crowley! We're finished! No reincarnations, no chance of spiritual redemption!" Aziraphale's breath quickened and his hands shook badly. Crowley took his hands in his own.

"Breathe, okay? Breathe. Can you do that for me?"

"What kind of advice is that?! Breathe? We're not human, Crowley, we don't actually need to—!"

"Aziraphale…" Crowley warned, glaring at his Angel through his sunglasses.

"I don't know how…" Aziraphale started gasping a little, "I don't know why—I can't—remember-!"

His knees gave a little and he nearly fell. Crowley took his arm and led him to the couch. "It's alright, I've got you. Just sit down. I've got you."

"I don't—! I can't understand—why…"

"Aziraphale, please look at me. I will not let anything happen to you."

"What is that supposed to mean?! I'm not your responsibility! You're in as much trouble as I am!"

"I won't let anything happen to you." Crowley repeated, holding tight to Aziraphale's trembling hands.

"I don't know if I…."

"Aziraphale. Breathe. I mean it."

Finally, Aziraphale listened. He was still panting and shaking, but he finally took a few deep, deliberate breaths.

"Good." Crowley said softly. "Now, you know what to do; what comes first?"

"I don't remember." Aziraphale answered immediately.

Crowley was patient, "yes you do. What comes first?"

"I-I tell you three things I can see."

"Go on then."

"I can see...plants. My...you do seem to have a lot, don't you? Are they...are they shaking?"

"Don't worry about them—keep going." Crowley answered quickly.

"Oh. Erm… I see your front door over there. Did we lock it behind us? Not that it would do us any good…"

"Aziraphale try naming something that isn't going to give you an aneurism." Crowley sighed in frustration. He was about to pray for patience but he stopped himself.

"I see you." Aziraphale answered, and smiled.

Crowley grinned back.

"What's next?" He prompted.

"Things I can hear, yes?"

Crowley nodded, so Aziraphale closed his eyes and obliged.

"I hear...birds outside. I hear the clock on the wall ticking." He paused and took a breath, "I hear you...breathing."

Crowley blushed a little and tried to hide it as Aziraphale moved on to things he could feel.

This exercise had come in handy since the 20th century. Aziraphale never liked the term "panic attack," but he was definitely prone to them.

As Aziraphale calmed down a bit more, they both became increasingly aware that they were still holding on rather tightly to each other's hands. However, they didn't let go...not right away, at least.

"You know me, Angel. You know I'd do anything for you. You know that I'd do anything to protect you."

Aziraphale took a few more moments to just breathe. Then, he looked down at his hands, still firmly held in Crowley's.

"But why?" He asked finally.

"Why what?"

"Why do you always...come to my aid? You only make things worse for yourself."

"Angel...come on. You know why." Crowley responded in a strained voice. Was Aziraphale really going to make him spell it out?

"No. I don't believe I do." Aziraphale was finally looking Crowley in the eyes, but suddenly Crowley wanted desperately for him to look away.

"Please tell me." Aziraphale pressed.

"You know….you must know. How I….well… how I..." Crowley swallowed hard.

Aziraphale reached up and slowly removed Crowley's sunglasses and looked him directly in his amber eyes. Crowley froze, unsure what was happening.

"Please, my dearest friend. It could be our last chance to say it…" Aziraphale whispered.

"You know me." Crowley repeated, breathlessly.

Then, slowly, with a great deal of hesitation, Aziraphale took one of Crowley's hands and brought it up to his own face and held it there. Crowley's breath caught in his throat. Aziraphale's face was warm against his perpetually cold hands. It was Crowley's turn to shake. Aziraphale then placed his other hand on Crowley's cheek. He traced Crowley's sharp cheekbones with his thumb and pursed his lips in a small smile.

As Aziraphale's breathing steadied, Crowley's grew more irregular. The entire time, they kept their eyes locked on each other, as if constantly asking if this was okay, waiting for someone to say stop.

"Are you...sure?" Crowley started, but Aziraphale had gotten very close indeed. And suddenly… finally, their lips met.

It was gentle at first, slow. Crowley held himself back. He didn't want to go too fast and scare Aziraphale off. He'd wanted this for so long, he was worried any sudden movements would ruin it. Neither seemed to want the moment to end. Aziraphale slipped his hand to the nape of Crowley's neck and pulled him a little closer. Crowley wasn't used to having to resist temptation, and he was finding it difficult. He was far more comfortable being the tempter. He kissed Aziraphale harder and his hands slithered to Aziraphale's back, pulling him closer still.

Suddenly Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley's chest and pulled away.

"What's the matter?" Crowley asked, concerned.

"I'm sorry… I-I don't know. I've wanted to...to do...that for a while. And after everything that transpired today… I thought…" Aziraphale looked down and blushed.

"It's okay, Angel." Crowley said gently. He touched Aziraphale's cheek and smiled.

"I do hope you aren't angry with me."

"No, Angel, I'm not." He lifted Aziraphale's chin so they were looking each other in the eye again. "I love you. I always have."

(_Let me know if you guys think I should continue with this idea or leave it as is _)


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